


Our Deal

by asiacore



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asiacore/pseuds/asiacore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d get off just by watching Liam come undone beneath him, sometimes he wouldn’t have to say anything at all. Touching Liam was enough until he was slumped forward, grasping around for purchase, knees buckling, and <em>screaming</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Deal

**Author's Note:**

> so once upon a time i got tired of reading about zayn pining for liam so i wrote the opposite and wow this bottom!liam fic was born and it’s kinda ridiculously angsty
> 
> based loosely on the song our deal by best coast
> 
> also found [here](http://shipslostatsea.tumblr.com/post/27278951957/ziam-pining-liam-angst-oneshot)

It meant nothing to him.

Just a fuck, that’s all he was good for.

He’d corner him backstage at the end of a show, “How about it?” he’d sometimes ask, but usually he’d just grab him by his collar and smash their lips together.

He wouldn’t call it a kiss, never that.

A kiss was something shared by two people who loved each other, or at least that’s what he always told himself.

And sure he loved Zayn, but Zayn didn’t love him back.

They’d agreed a long time ago, when they first started this that this was just something that they did.

It was just a _thing_.

_They_ weren’t a definitive thing.

That was their deal, that they’d continue their _thing_ , and not become exclusive.

And that’s what killed Liam the most.

Sure he loved when they’d stumble into abandoned rooms backstage, hotel rooms, sometimes closets and Zayn would whisper hotly into his ear about how much he enjoyed how willing and pliant and Liam was.

How he’d get off just by watching Liam come undone beneath him, sometimes he wouldn’t have to say anything at all. Touching Liam was enough until he was slumped forward, grasping around for purchase, knees buckling, _screaming_.

Yeah, Zayn loved him then.

But it was never enough.

And it was always over too quick.

Except the few times when it wasn’t.

When Liam would invite Zayn over, whether it’s in his hotel room or his flat, Zayn would always come. Why would he not? Liam always had the best shit.

They’d lay on the floor in front of the couch, learning after the first time that there was no actual reason for them to try to stay on furniture; they’d just slide right off anyway.

Zayn always took the first hit.

Liam liked watching Zayn smoke.

The way his lips fit tightly around the inside of the bong as he lit up.

The slow and steady rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled.

It was all worth it.

He’d suck it in and hold it there and pass the bong, fingers brushing against Liam’s causing a chill to run down Liam’s spine because he knew what was coming soon.

The best part always occurred when they’d silently agree that they’ve consumed enough drugs for one night.

Liam always loved when they’d take turns fucking each other on the cold wood floor in the living room of Liam’s flat. It was always a nice contrast to their hot sweaty bodies, moving slow and languidly against each other in a post high haze.

Plus it was a familiar place and they wouldn’t have to worry about stains or broken items that didn’t belong to them because they were _wild_.

A few rounds were usually enough for Zayn. He’d pass out on Liam’s chest, and just stay there, sticky and heavy until they woke up.

Liam was always first to wake up, but he’d learned after the first time to lie there and act like he wasn’t.

He’d watch through slotted eyes as Zayn’s eyelids fluttered open and he’d pull on his boxers, not even bothering with cleaning up or shoes or a shirt or anything really other than his pack of cigarettes and his lighter and he’d pad outside onto the balcony and stay there until he heard the shower running.

Liam was always hopeful, always _stupid_ , always wishing. That one day he’d step out of the shower to see Zayn standing there, waiting for him.

But it never happened.

So he’d go about his day like everything was normal.

First, he’d clean up their mess, and then he’d maybe call Niall and go get a bite or just have him come over for takeaway and video games.

He was sure Niall knew what was going on, but he was ever the best friend and never said a thing about it. But Liam didn’t miss the concerned glances Niall would shoot him when he was sure Liam wasn’t looking.

And Liam didn’t want people feeling bad for him.

But if he was as obvious as he thought he was then why didn’t Zayn see it?

See how much Liam wanted him.

_Needed_ him.

It burns a hole in Liam’s chest where his heart is supposed to be.

Where his heart would’ve been if he hadn’t handed it over to Zayn so long ago without either of them realizing it.

Going out with Harry or Louis was even worse than staying in with Niall.

Harry would always try to get him to talk about it, about him and Zayn, though he never said as much.

Louis was the worst though; he’d tease him about it. Tell him he needed to get over whatever or whoever it was that was bothering him, then ask him if he wanted to snog.

Yeah, Louis was terrible.

Which is why Liam found himself at Zayn’s doorstep at nearly half three in the morning, his right hand hovering precariously in front of the door.

He threw all caution to the wind and rapped on it three sharp times before lowering his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist in an attempt to calm himself.

To tell himself that this wasn’t as stupid an idea now as it was when he first thought it was while he lay in bed tossing and turning from lack of sleep.

It had been too long, Liam decided. Zayn clearly didn’t hear him or is blatantly ignoring him. He’d just leave, and they’d both pretend this never happened.

But just as he turns to leave the door swings up and a shirtless Zayn mumbles sleepily, “Liam?”

Liam snapped back around and took in the appearance of the love of his life.

His face was scruffy from lack of shaving assuming he was too lazy to do so. Liam watched him rub at his beard thoughtfully before stepping back and letting him in.

He came in and plopped down on the couch in the dark living room, neither of them bothering to turn on a light.

Zayn walks right past him straight into the kitchen and starts up the kettle before coming to sit right next to Liam.

It’s dark enough that Liam can see Zayn fully, but feel comfortable enough to stare openly at him without being reprimanded.

He takes in the slight sheen of sweat covering Zayn’s skin, follows it from the curve of his brow, straight down to where his boxers lay dangerously low on his hips and Liam can feel Zayn’s eyes following his eyes and he wants to say something, he really does.

But he doesn’t.

Because the kettle is whistling and in and instant Zayn is gone but back moments later pressing a cup into the hands that are clenched in his lap.

He brings the cup to his lips and takes a sip. It’s almost too hot for tea, nearly August and Liam’s skin is crawling, but it’s soothing and Liam smiles weakly, “Cheers,”

Zayn nods around his own cup and they just sit there for a while studying one another.

They sip quietly at their tea until Zayn takes their cups back into the kitchen and as soon as he’s back Liam has him pinned down on the couch, breath hot and minty with a hint of Earl Grey.

Hands are sliding against damp skin and moans are muffled against shoulders and chests and Liam’s clothes have all been nearly removed but then he pulls back.

“What are we doing?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Zayn answers with a question of his own.

Liam shakes his head and gets up in a huff, scurrying to put his clothes on and get out of there.

This was a terrible idea, and he knew that. So why did he come here in the first place?

He was nearly out the door when Zayn slammed it shut, bolted the locks, and stood in front of it.

“Is there something we need to talk about?”

It’s a standoff, really. Zayn staring intently at Liam who is trying so, so hard not to look at him.

Because he knows as soon as he does, it’s all over.

That they’re back to square one and Liam doesn’t want that.

He doesn’t want _this_ anymore.

“I want out.” He says.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

And that’s just it.

Liam snaps.

“You don’t get it do you? I don’t want to be your quick fuck when you can’t find a chick that’s willing or when you’re horny and alone. I don’t want to have to pretend to not be awake until you’re out of the room because you, ‘don’t want to talk about it’, don’t want to talk about us.” Liam is heaving and huffing.

But he continues on anyway, “This, whatever it is we have, this agreement, I want it to be over and done with. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t handle pretending that I don’t actually have feelings for you. And we both know that I do, so don’t deny it. Everyone knows. I’m in love with you and this _deal_ is killing me.”

It’s silent for a long time and Liam isn’t sure where Zayn is looking, probably at the floor because his voice sounds hollow and distant when he finally mutters, “You should go,” as he opens the door behind him and steps aside to let him out.

He’s not surprised at all, actually quite relieved and leaves with no intentions of ever talking about this ever again.

And they don’t talk about it.

They go for months without talking about it.

Until they do.

They’re in the studio when Zayn brings it back up.

“So I thought about what you said,” he starts and Liam turns his attention from Harry who was currently in the recording booth to quirk an eyebrow at him. “About us.”

“There is no us.” Liam turns back around determined to not talk about this right now. Not ever.

“Liam, just hear me out, yeah?” Zayn touches his shoulder and it burns but he doesn’t shrug him off. “ _Please_ , Li.”

And Liam is nodding, “Yeah okay, but not in here.” He glances over to where Louis and Niall are playing footie indoors, and he should probably advise them to stop, but that’s not his job. So he just stands up and leads Zayn out through the hallway and into an alleyway.

They stop once they’re considerably far away from the door but close enough to get back in with ease if needed. Liam leans against the wall behind him and gestures for Zayn who’s fiddling around his pockets to start talking.

“I guess I kinda had an idea… That maybe you were more emotionally invested than I was, but I thought we were both okay with ignoring that.” Zayn shoved his hands into his pockets to still them from moving and rocked back on his heels. “I didn’t want this to happen though, I miss you Li.”

“Do you really miss me or do you just miss my arse?” Liam spits and instantly regrets it when Zayn dons a crestfallen look upon his face.

They were best mates before they started fucking and he ought to remember that. It has to be killing Zayn as much at is killing him that they haven’t said as much as four words to one another since that dreaded night.

“I’m sorry Li, I really am,” and Liam wishes Zayn would stop calling him that. “I’m sorry that I don’t feel the same way as you, and I’m sorry that we agreed to even start this stupid thing in the first place, I just want my best mate back.”

Liam sighs dejectedly and looks pointedly at the space between Zayn’s eyes, “I miss you too it’s just… hard being around you now without wanting to, you know.”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods, “I know.”

“But I guess we could try?” Liam shrugs, “For old times’ sake. And I guess ultimately for the band.”

“So…new deal?” Zayn holds out a hand in question to shake.

Liam stares at it for a second before slapping it away and pulling the love of his life into a tight embrace.

“No more deals Zayn, please.”

Zayn squeezes him back and their hug is not really a hug as much as it is the two of them grasping each other for dear life.

They stand there for a while just holding each other in mutual silence until Zayn breathes in a sharp intake of breath and pulls away.

“Yeah, I can do that.”


End file.
